


Something More Personal

by VincentRowlings (AnotherLastGoodbye)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Episode: s08e13 Magnum Opus, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:26:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1198674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherLastGoodbye/pseuds/VincentRowlings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bryan Hughes will do anything for his art to be seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something More Personal

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: mentions of suicide.

Alan Archer didn't know where he was. His vision was blurry, but, he could tell he was no longer in the gallery. He went to move his hands, but found he couldn't, as they were bound to whatever it was he was strapped to. It wasn't comfortable was all Alan knew at the moment. That, and it was dark, and smelled...strange.

His glasses had been taken off of his face, so, even with his vision coming a little more into focus, he still couldn't see as well as he could with them. He found himself staring up at a high ceiling, only one light hanging from it. The blinds on the windows were closed. The door was closed. And he could hear footsteps across the wooden floor.

A man leaned over him, looking over his face many times. Alan couldn't make out his face for a moment. He studied the blurred features closely, an image clicking in his head. He'd seen this face so many times before...

"...Bryan?"

Bryan Hughes. The man he'd been with for almost a year now. The self proclaimed artist. The man Madison detested. Alan's face took a rather surprised look. What was Bryan thinking? What was he doing?

Alan took another look around the room as well as he could when Bryan moved from his spot. Paintings covered the room, all looking like they'd been painted with some form of red liquid. He'd seen a few before when Bryan brought them into his workplace for Madison to look over. He bit at his lip, something he couldn't help when he was nervous. 

Bryan also had nervous habits.

He'd sway back and forth. He'd bite his nails. He'd move his fingers like he was playing a piano. Alan knew all this. He tried to locate his partner once again.

"Something personal..."

Alan heard Bryan utter the words from somewhere else in the room. Madison had said this to him about a week ago. Use something more personal, she'd said, or something along those lines. Bryan's only wish was to be accepted into this gallery, and Alan knew it. Sometimes, Alan was convinced that Bryan loved his art more than he did Alan. 

Alan was right in his suspicion. That's why he was here right now.

The red liquid...Bryan always mentioned painting with a strange medium. Blood. That's what it was. Alan heard Bryan clammering around to the left of him. 

And then it hit.

The news story about the bodies found near neglected works of art. Drained of their blood. The criminal might be painting with it. All of this was going through Alan's head.

Bryan was the killer. And Alan was about to be his next victim.

"Bryan, wait, what are you doing? It's me, Alan!"

Bryan's head turned once he heard the voice call him. 

"I know who you are, Alan. I know." Bryan replied, his soft, raspy voice all too familiar to Alan. He then wheeled a cart over to the table Alan was strapped onto. There was a cloth and a scalpel in his hands. The right hand had a white dressing over it. "I know you. I know you so well..."

"Then why are you doing this, Bryan?"

Alan's voice was now more quiet. He was still trying to think of why Bryan would go to these lengths. He'd taken lives just for the sake of these paintings. People with families and friends were now gone, just so Bryan would feel accepted.

"I'm doing this because I need something more personal. That's what Mrs. Riley said. Something personal. You're personal. You're mine."

Alan slightly winced at the last words he'd spoken. He'd heard that many times. Good and bad situations.

"I understand, Bryan. But you don't have to do this."

Bryan gripped the scalpel in his hand. 

"You don't understand. You'll never understand, Alan."

"I can try."

Bryan's eyes turned to meet Alan's for the last time. Alan stared into them, trying to get his message across. You don't need to kill me, he thought. Please, don't kill me. I thought you loved me.

Bryan looked down into Alan's eyes, his fingers moving around the scalpel as was his habit. He brought his other hand, with the cloth still in it, up to wipe at his face, then he wiped Alan's face. "Thank you, Alan."

"For what, Bryan?"

"Helping me."

Alan shook his head. He didn't want to help him. He wanted Bryan to let him go. Alan was beginning to feel weak. He looked down as far as he could. There was already a tube leading from his leg into a jar.

"Bryan..."

Bryan didn't speak for the moment. He kept looking into Alan's eyes.

"Bryan, I love you."

Alan's words were returned with a blank stare. 

"Don't do this, Bryan."

"I have to."

"You don't!"

At this point, Alan would beg for his life. The life he was already losing. He felt tired. He closed his eyes.

"Open your eyes, Alan."

He did.

"Shh...be still."

Bryan's hand stroked the side of Alan's face.

"Be still."

In the next minute, Bryan walked over to the jar of blood. He took the tube out, closing it with a lid. He glanced over to the man on the table. Lifeless.

Bryan stood there for a moment, fingers curling around the jar.

He placed the jar down.

He still had the scalpel.

The FBI were there. He heard many footsteps coming up the stairs.

People will see his work now.

Aaron Hotchner opened the door.

He and his team found two lifeless bodies in that moment. The one on the table, and the one on the floor.


End file.
